


The Beginning of All Things

by glorious_clio



Series: Husbanding England [5]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Babyfic, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-27
Updated: 2007-12-30
Packaged: 2020-10-14 22:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: Oh god this is so old and embarrassing but here it is. It's Robin/Marian babyfic.





	1. A Beginning

Marian laid in bed, her sleeping form curled into his. It was a form that she did not have a year ago, when they married, six months ago, Robin thought, or even a form that she did not have yesterday. He smiled lazily, and rested his hand on her swollen belly. The one that carried their child.

He had thought that she was beautiful before he left for war. Hers was the face that carried him through many battles and raids. Though it was a Holy War, a Crusade for God, He did little to comfort him after battles when he washed the blood from his body. Marian of Knighton was always in his thoughts.

He had thought she was beautiful when he returned from the Holy Lands, when she stood in the doorway of Knighton Hall, carefully aiming an arrow at him. She had remained young and whole, while he felt aged and tired. And there she was, full of life and energy that again gave him courage and strength.

He had thought her beautiful when they fought the Sheriff; the day she nearly died but came back to him. Those precious weeks she was in his camp, tempting him with her chaste form. The many times she was in trees, signaling him, helping him, asking him to help her.

He thought he knew true beauty when she entered the Church on their wedding day, clad in white and glowing with happiness, love, warmth, and trust. She was all he noticed that day, stunned by her maidenly charm.

But he was wrong.

True, she was a pretty girl. Even _Guy of Gisbourne_ noticed that. But nothing could compare with this stunning, gorgeous woman next to him. Her full breasts and belly became her; she was shining with a secret that everyone else knew too. Even the shadows under her eyes suited her, making her blue eyes look bigger than normal.

He smiled as the babe kicked his hand, always in the same spot, near the top of the womb on the right side. Djaq took this as a good sign, that he or she was positioned for a good delivery.

Robin's thoughts drifted back to the day she told him she was expecting the child. He had returned from London, from business with King Richard. Marian was supposed to come with, but she had been feeling poorly.

_Night had fallen as Robin rode up to Locksley, Much riding on to Bonchurch. He left his horse in the stables and met Bridget Thornton, the housekeeper, at the door._

"_Welcome home, Master. We did not expect you until tomorrow."_

"_Thank you, Bridget. Lord Much and I decided to leave early. Where is Lady Marian?"_

"_Upstairs, my Lord. I believe she is asleep. Will you be requiring anything?"_

"_No, thank you Bridget. I will also be retiring for the evening."_

_Her answer was lost as he climbed the stairs. He entered the room quietly, built up the fire a little, and undressed. As he neared their bed, Marian awoke quickly, pulling a knife out from under her pillow. Upon recognizing him, she laughed._

"_Well that's a fine welcome home, I must say."_

"_I am sorry, Robin, but too many years of uncertainty have taught me to be paranoid." She put the knife on her bedside table. He crawled into bed. "But now you're home, and you can protect me long enough for me to find a real weapon."_

_He gently kissed her lips, and pulling back, took her in._

"_Marian, is that my tunic?"_

"_Yes."_

"_May I ask why you're wearing it?"_

"_I missed you, and it smells like you. Or it did. Now, I'm afraid it smells like me."_

_He took her into his arms. "How are you feeling, my love?"_

"_Better, but I am afraid I will feel ill again tomorrow. But Djaq assures me that this is only temporary. By then we will have new worries."_

_Robin's heart was suddenly full of fear._

"_Marian, my love, what is wrong."_

_She drew back and looked him in the eye._

"_I am with child."_

_In her eyes he could see fear and joy conflicting for dominance. He felt his own heart do the same. Both their mothers died giving birth to them. That was not a good record to go on._

_He kissed her, and said reassuringly, "You have made me so happy…."_

They had spent the entire night talking and hiding their fear from each other. They agreed that Djaq would be the one to deliver the child, and that Robin should be present. Robin had shifted uncomfortably when she had asked him to stay, after all, traditionally only women who had conceived themselves could be present. Marian pointed out that it was hardly a law, and if she died, she wanted him to be there to comfort her. Her frankness had scared him into agreeing.

Now, her time was nearing. Djaq was in and out every day, insisting she take this root with breakfast, these berries with dinner, take walks in the evening, and a million other things that they had to write down to remember. Will had made them a beautiful cradle, and they received many other generous gifts from peasants and nobility alike, including a small suit of armor from King Richard in hopes that the child was a boy.

Marian and Bridget made practical things, like clothes and diapers that filled an entire chest of drawers, leaving Robin wondering how many diapers the babe would need. And of course, they picked out names that they refused to reveal to anyone else.

And even though he still feared for Marian, the truth of it was, he was incredibly happy. He trusted Djaq, especially with her muttering 'an ounce of prevention is better than a pound of cure,' and so many other proverbs and litanies, often in Arabic that he could not translate. He felt like the luckiest man in the world, even though it sounded cliché when voiced to Marian. He was looking forward to holding his wife and child (boy or girl?) in his arms.

Marian stirred and her eyelids fluttered open.

"Good morning," he said, kissing her forehead.

"Mm, well it is morning." She shifted, uncomfortable. "Would you like to know a secret?"

"Yes," he said, grinning boyishly and ducking his head. "Will you tell me?"

"You had better send Bridget for Djaq, I am sure that today is the day…."


	2. Muirbhrúcht

It is dark now.

Or maybe it has been dark for years and I just had not noticed?

The stars are swimming in the heavens, lights in the dark, guiding me on. Lighthouses in a storm.

Another wave of pain rips through me, passing over me, over my head, and recedes back to where it came from.

The storm came fast, I think. I see Djaq at my feet. She is also a lighthouse, but not for me. She is a lighthouse for the child I know is still in me, guiding it out of the storm that my body has become. I cannot see Robin, but I feel him behind me, supporting me. A life-raft that I cling to desperately. His heart pounds into my back, he holds my hands. His are cold, like ice. Frozen water. I smell his fear, like a breeze off the ocean, heady with salt.

Another wave, faster and higher and stronger now. Threatening to drown me. I cannot scream, lest water should come into my mouth. I hold my breath while Djaq urges me to breathe. Tears and sweat mingle and stain my face, leaving it wet. I can taste the salt on my lips and tongue.

Bridget wipes my forehead with a cool damp cloth. I try to tell her that I do not need any more water, but now Djaq bids me to concentrate. On anything.

I cast my mind like a fisherman with a net while Djaq returns her light to my child. My thoughts are not my own, but I pause in my panicked pain long enough for a word to float to the surface of my mind. Muirbhrúcht. I do not know where I remember it from; it is Gaelic, a word from the uncivilized Celts west of us, safely at a distance across the water. But I feel uncivilized here and now, my only thought is survival. And muirbhrúcht. Tidal wave.

Djaq is murmuring things at me feet, whether in English or Arabic, I can no longer tell. Robin is also murmuring things into my ear. I cannot hear them above the roar of the waves. At any rate, I am tired of all of their words as I struggle through the pain to concentrate on my own. Muirbhrúcht.

A channel in me opens, and I feel like I am splitting in two. East bank, west bank. I now know how it feels to separate from one's self. Djaq encourages me this time. I throw my head back for a brief moment and gaze at the stars outside the window. They sputter and wink at me, like a thousand candles on a beach.

Muirbhrúcht.

And as suddenly as the storm whipped up, it is gone. Like water itself, I have given life, and yet it has not destroyed me. I laugh weakly as Djaq takes the child to examine it. Bridget cleans me up. Suddenly, I cannot have enough water. Robin repositions me on our bed and gives me a cool drink. I heave a tired sigh.

Djaq turns around and smiles. "It is a girl."

I watch as Robin's face lights up. Djaq hands me the child, swaddled and screaming. I am tired, as if I have swum a hundred miles. My limbs are heavy and bloated. Somehow I find the strength to hold her and nurse her. She drinks greedily at the nourishment only I can give her. I cannot keep from smiling. Bridget hums contentedly while she cleans up and takes the ruined rags out of the room.

Djaq is talking to Robin, giving him instructions. He is only half listening as he watches us. Djaq smiles, and announces she will leave the same instructions with Bridget and will return tomorrow. She kisses me on the check and goes home to Will.

Robin sits next to me on our bed. We are alone now. And safe.

"You did it."

I sigh again, content. "I did. I do not know how, but I did." I gaze at our daughter. She fusses quietly, but I hum to her and rock her gently, like a gentle raft on a stream. "She is beautiful."

"You both are."

I smile at his words, but I am too exhausted to argue with him. "We did not tell Djaq her name. Or Bridget."

"We can tell them tomorrow. They will probably guess now that they know she is a girl."

I nod, gazing at her. Katherine. For my mother. Maid Katherine of Locksley. I whisper a welcome to her, and pass her to Robin. In a few moments, I am asleep, drifting on the gentle waters of my dreams.


End file.
